Sin With Me

43

“Nico! For f**k’s sake!” I hiss under my breath, trying not to let Grace hear me.

“Sorry, bro. TV’s comin’ on.”

After a moment the blare of a news station crackles over the line. “Local news, baby,” Nico says to Kat. Then to me, “Your power out over there?”

“Just trying to avoid traumatizing Grace any more than she already is.”

“Wait, baby—stop on that one!” Nico is quiet a moment, and then he murmurs, “Holy shit.”

In the background Kat shouts, “Oh my God! That’s Grace’s building!”

I demand, “Tell me.”

“Looks like whoever called Grace was tellin’ the truth. That fancy high-rise she lives in has a big hole right in the middle of it. Smoke’s pourin’ out. Got fire trucks and paramedics all over the place. Looks like a bomb went off—”

Fumbling noises, muffled cursing. Then a panicked Kat commandeers the phone. “Brody! Is Grace okay? Is she still there?”

“Yes, she’s here—”

“Has she seen the news? It’s a f*****g disaster!”

“Kat—”

“Thank God she spent the night at your place! Put her on, I need to talk to her!”

“Kat, calm down—”

“Put her on the phone right now!”

Wincing, I jerk the phone away from my head. When no more eardrum-piercing sounds emit from the speaker, I put the phone back to my ear. “You being out of control emotionally isn’t going to help her, Kat.”

The silence bristles. There’s an aggravated snarl like a bear rudely awoken from its winter hibernation, and then a sigh. “Okay. You’re right. I’m calm. Ish.”

“Good. Thank you. What I need you to do is get some clothes together for her—anything you or Chloe have that would fit—and some cosmetics. Hair stuff, girl stuff, I’ll leave it to you. You know what she needs. Anything you don’t have I’ll get from the store. I’ll have a driver pick it up from your place later, or you guys can come over and—”

“Wait a minute. She’s staying with you?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

I glance over at Grace. A powerful feeling washes over me. It’s a feeling I’m unfamiliar with, but one I want—more than anything else I’ve ever wanted—to dive deeper into.

I say softly, “I haven’t asked her yet, but . . . for as long as she wants. Hopefully forever.”

Kat’s gasp tells me her emotions are about to spiral out of control again, even before she says with hysterical urgency, “Are you guys a thing now? Oh please, please tell me you’re a thing!”

“Kat. Focus. Clothes.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I’ll get the stuff together. I’ll be over there as soon as I can.”

She stops speaking abruptly. After a moment, her voice lowered, she says, “I’ve always liked you, Brody. I think you’re a great guy. But if you ever hurt my girl, if you ever so much as make her frown, I’ll rain down a s**t storm of such Biblical proportions on your head you won’t know what hit you. I will rip off both your arms and beat you to death with them. Literally.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “I know you will, Rocky.”

“No—listen. She’s not as tough as she seems.”

“I know. She told me about her memory situation. I know what I’m getting into. And I’m a thousand percent on board. She’s not like anyone else I’ve met before, I’ve never felt like this before, and there’s nothing on the face of this f*****g earth I’d rather do than take care of her. I’ll never hurt her, Kat. Never. I swear on my mother’s life.”

Kat’s exhalation has a religious fervor to it. She sounds like she’s making the sign of the cross over her chest.

“And now I’m gonna hang up and go take care of our girl, okay?”

Kat sniffles. She says a choked, “Okay,” and gives the phone to Nico.

He barks, “What did you just say to make my wife cry, asshole?”

“I kinda told her . . . in so many words . . . that I’m falling in love with her girlfriend.”

After a brief silence, Nico chuckles. “Yeah, that’d do it.”

In the living room, Magda hands Grace a mug of tea, sits down on the sofa beside her, and gives her a hug.

I almost drop the phone.

Magda doesn’t give hugs. She gives tongue-lashings. She gives the evil eye. She does not give hugs.

Unless I’m hallucinating, which is a definite possibility.

“I gotta go, Nico.”

“Yep. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, man.”

I hang up and head straight back to Grace. The moment I stop in front of the sofa, Magda launches into an unintelligible rant accompanied by a lot of choppy hand gestures that seems to indicate I’m doing everything wrong and am not competent enough to deal with a soaking wet, distraught woman.

“Magda, I have no idea what you just said, but I need to talk to—”

Magda throws up a hand. She turns to Grace and, very gently, says something to her in Spanish.

Grace takes a sip of her tea. She whispers, “Thank you, Magda. That’s very kind.”

Magda pats her back, nodding. Then she says something else in Spanish to Grace.

“Oh, no. I . . .” Grace glances up at me, then quickly looks away. “I couldn’t impose like that. I’ll get a hotel, my insurance will cover it—”